The Extreme
by Enchanted Ink
Summary: Hermione Granger is in love with the youngest male Weasley. There's one problem. He's not in love with her, and not only that, but he's not the same innocent little boy anymore. Perhaps Draco Malfoy can help, hmm?
1. OnE

****

Official Information

Title: The Extreme

Author: Enchanted Ink

Disclaimer: Harry Potter indica is the property of **J. K. Rowling **and the **Warner Bros. Association; NOT ME.**

Summary: H. A. Granger is in love- with the youngest male Weasley. There is one problem. Ron is no longer an innocent, awkward boy, and she has come to the conclusion that he is after another girl... Her enemy is a master in the art of relationships, and she will do anything for his council.

Rating: PG-13 for possible:

-Language

-Sexual Content

-Violence

-Drugs &/or Alcohol

Extra Info.: Words in _italic _indicate thought or emphasis on the given term. I am aware of the fact that Draco Malfoy's eyes are usually referred to as blue.

A/N: Hello. R/R, please!

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1

Summer... The season for students from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to indulge in relaxation. Hermione A. Granger, however, used her spare time to read, pouring over thick, aged volumes. Text books, she loved them. Closing her eyes, she could vision the smooth pages turning. Her parents consistently coaxed her to be a teenager.

During the summer before her seventh year, her parents decided to vacation to Madrid, Spain to visit with cousins. It was the week before term started, and they gave her enough wizarding money to cover food, transportation, room and board, school supplies, and a little left for recreation. After all, her parents were dentists and their wages were... Well, enough.

The Leaky Cauldron was a stingy but welcoming inn with a constant flow of strangers. Kissing her mother and her father farewell, Hermione approached Tom, the innkeeper, to rent a room. He limped up creaky stairs, led by lantern light, to an old oak door with a sign that read Number 8. She thanked him briefly and breathed a sign of relief as her hefty trunk made an audible thud on the floor. She grimaced as her surroundings, the same she had viewed in her third year, slapped her in the face. No wonder her rent was cheap!

Hermione dumped the contents of her small money pouch onto the twin bed and peered down at the galleons, knuts, and sickles as they continued to tumble out. Being the responsible witch she was, money management was the task she completed next. She had a decent amount for pleasure! Tomorrow she would be her own personal guide around the magical, hidden city in London. Tonight, Hermione would sleep.

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Sunshine blinded Hermione as the morning made itself visible. Groaning, she put her feet on the cold floor and stumbled in the direction of the mirror. A scowl was on her lips as she glared critically at her tangle of messy brown curls. Purple bags made her matching brown eyes look bruised.

Ugh, I'm repulsive when I wake up! she thought. _I wonder what Ron would say. I don't want to know. He's so handsome now, although I fancied him before. That red hair looks adorable! He's another younger version of his parents._

After thirty minutes of grooming and dressing, she snatched up her money purse and began her trot down the rickety staircase. She found that her appetite had not yet woken, and began her own tour of Diagon Alley, viewing the newest aspects it had to offer. Suddenly, a crowd of young, giggling girls caught her attention. Just as she began to roll her eyes, bits and pieces of their conversation began to reach her ears. Not surprisingly, curiosity rooted her to the spot.

"Yeah, it opens at midnight, tonight. It's called..." The girl fell into another shrill laugh, so obnoxious Hermione almost walked away. Almost... Until she heard her say, "It's called The Extreme, and it's supposed to be a dance club. A lot of Hogwarts students are going to be there." Finally she recognized the leader of the small group, a fifth year Ravenclaw. Hermione glanced around quickly.

She was near the end of Diagon Alley, next to a post that held three other signs that proclaimed the title of the other various streets. With a turn of her head, she saw the topic of their discussion, a small entrance with enchanted, plastic tarp draped over the glass doors of the new club. Perhaps Hermione would return later, if only for a quick visit. Maybe she would know some of the Hogwarts students that were supposedly going to be there.

--------------------------------------------------

It was twelve thirty, and Hermione was, once again, staring at herself critically in the mirror. She was wearing a brown, corduroy skirt that reached her knees, a cream-colored peasant top with baggy sleeves, and dark cork sandals. Her hair was still curly, as usual, but they were orderly and neat. A small coat of lip gloss was the only makeup Hermione wore, but it was all she had.

The Extreme. Ha! I hope the club is as pathetic as it sounds. Then I'll fit in perfectly!

--------------------------------------------------

Hermione quickly gained the knowledge that The Extreme was _not _pathetic. She was. The second she saw the crowded entrance she knew she would not fit it, due to the fact that several other witches, _pretty _witches, were dressed more attractively, at least according to the young, _handsome _wizards. She felt utterly childish.

Plush, red leather booths lined the mirrored walls and made reflections against the metallic, silver floor. Smoke machines blew around blue and pink showers of fumes and music blared from large, black speakers. Dancers, both male and female, were gyrating to the tune. Desperation filled Hermione as she searched for a familiar face.

She was dying for a friend, or one of her best friends. Harry and Ron, however, were at Private Drive and The Burrow. A flash of the familiar face she sought turned her body on alert, and she stiffened as she turned to the right, following the black shirt. That flannel black shirt with the image of a team in robes that sported the name The Chudley Cannons on the front...

RON?

As the figure turned she realized that it was indeed Ron. His red hair had gotten slightly shaggy and ragged, but it was still enough to make Hermione want to push her fingers through it. His jaw was strong and his figure was no longer lanky, but lean. Boyant eyes gleamed. And then she saw his partner, who was equally as glamorous.

Her hair was black, short, and stylish. Her eyes were an astounding blue. Her mouth was coated with red lipstick that matched her skirt.

I don't think that even qualifies as a skirt, Hermione thought in disgust. _And half of that blouse is missing! _It was true. The camisole the girl wore was revealing what she definitely _did_ have. Hermione almost burst into tears.

I can't believe that my friend, who hasn't owled me in over three weeks, would have the nerve to dance with another girl without so much as thinking about his reputation. I... I really care about Ron. What is that... THAT REPULSIVE THING THEY ARE DOING WITH THEIR HIPS?!

Hermione really did not want to cry in front of hundreds of people, but part of her hoped that Ron would see her and know he was the cause of the tears she knew were coming. Turning, she gasped as she knocked lightly into somebody's torso, the torso of a strong male taller than her five feet and six inches.

Her enemy stared down at her, then back at Ron who hadn't noticed her yet, and gave his famous smirk.

The voice of Draco Malfoy said, clearly amused by the drawling quality his voice posessed, "Who knew Granger was in love with Weasley?"

All Hermione could manage was a weak expression of horror.

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	2. TwO

****

Official Information

Title: The ExtremeAuthor: Enchanted Ink

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the indica of **J. K. Rowling** and the **Warner Bros. Association**; **NOT ME**.

Summary: H. A. Granger is in love- with the youngest male Weasley. There is one problem. Ron is no longer an innocent, awkward boy, and she has come to the conclusion that he is after another girl... Her enemy is a master in the art of relationships, and she will do anything for his council.

Rating: PG-13 for possible:

-Language

-Sexual Content

-Violence

-Drugs &/or Alcohol

Extra Info.: Words in _italic _indicate thought or emphasis on the given term. I am aware of the fact that Draco Malfoy's eyes are usually referred to as blue. A love handle is a body characteristic people develop when they are gaining weight and their stomachs are no longer flat.

A/N: I would like to thank everyone who contributed their time to R/R. I appreciate your effort.

--------------------------------------------------

2

"Of all of the preposterous assumptions!" Hermione gasped in what she prayed dearly was an indignant manner. She suddenly felt threatened. Her love for Ron Weasley was not information Draco Malfoy should have in his greedy clutches. Horror sped through her body as the possibilities flashed through her mind. Her main concern was blackmail.

"Granger! I'm shocked. I thought that you of all people were above... _Lies."_

I was, but your nasty habits are contagious, Hermione wanted to hiss, but she knew that if anybody was going to win the verbal feud that might possibly occur, it would not be her. _How does he know I'm lying?_ Thankfully, Draco seemed bored with the one-sided banter and moved on to another topic.

"Can't you dance?"

"Of course I can." Now she _was _indignant, and then humiliated because she knew what she considered dancing others would consider... Something all together different.  
  
"Well then."

"Well then what?" Hermione swallowed.  
  
"Prove it." She knew, by the expression in his eyes, that Draco was enjoying himself thoroughly. _If I'm going suffer through this embarrassment, I might as well get a rise out of Ron at the same time, _and with this thought she pulled her enemy's hand into her own clutches and drew him closer. As she glanced at his face once more, she noticed that his brown eyes looked alarmed, but only for a few short seconds.

With cheeks the shade of crimson, Hermione began to move. She held Draco's warm hands up and swayed forward, then back, a move she had observed at her aunt's _fourth _wedding. Draco's hands finally gripped his partner's in return and he moved too, first to the left and then to the right in a circular motion. Although they were both facing each other, the eye contact Draco made was not returned. She was glancing over his shoulder in Ron's direction, to Ron and the annoyingly pretty person who was still in his company. Draco sighed.   
  
"That's truly pathetic, Granger. You have absolutely no taste. Awww, maybe you could buy his heart, the _poor_ guy would be all over you then."

The blonde caught a flash of anger in Hermione's eye, and she remembered the time she had smacked him in the face during third year for his mistreatment of Hagrid, not only the gamekeeper but her dear friend. Suddenly, she placed the heel of her foot onto Draco's toe roughly, satisfied when a wince of pain was spotted. In the most menacing voice she could muster she said, "Your such a little boy. I knew it was too much for you, being civil."

Before he could say one word, she was walking to the bar. He grinned easily. Hermione was more like a Slytherin than she knew, and the fact that she... Desired Ron was more than a little repulsive to him.

--------------------------------------------------

Ron Weasley had the young, black-haired girl in his arms, a young woman who he had seen before at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He knew she was in Hufflepuff. He knew that she was exceptionally good-looking. However, other than that, he didn't seem to know anything about her. What Ron did know was that she was quickly becoming his newest infatuation.

Fred and George Weasley had spirit. It was their nature to be the cause of universal trouble. Ron, however, was usually more... Well, he was what Fred and George _weren't_. Suddenly, that changed. He was in a strange metamorphosis. Quidditch was not more than just a mere hobby, it was huge. His room was one giant Quidditch pitch. Not only that, but he had a vast interest in the opposite sex. This was surprising, yes, but what was even more astounding was the fact that the opposite sex seemed to have taken an interest in him. He supposed this had something to do with the fact that he had gone through some major physical changes. He was modest in public, but in front of the mirror he could not help his cockiness; he felt more self-confident than ever.

Glancing around the club, he saw familiar brown curls. Hermione! What on earth would she be doing at The Extreme? He grimaced as he remembered her dancing technique with Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball in fourth year. Shaking his head to clear the image, he told the black-haired girl, Erika Swan, that he was thirsty. Being the clingy witch she was, she came along. Ron wanted to avoid Hermione, but he knew that if he didn't say hello he would get an ear-load later.

--------------------------------------------------

Ron. Hermione. Erika Swan?! Draco watched the scene unfold with uncanny attention. His entire body was stiff with alertness. He had seen Weasley with his dance partner, but he had only seen the girl from behind. She was a pureblood in Hufflepuff, which was a bad combination in his opinion, but he had possessed an interest in her ever since the beginning of his sixth year. Now he was charging into seventh. He had made plans for action, and currently... Well, he didn't know what happened now. Maybe his assumptions were false.

Draco did know one thing. He knew more about Erika than Ron did. He had a habit of noticing all of the little details, about everybody. Hermione, however, was a different story.

Story. That's all she seems to do, read. But I don't think that's all there is to her. She surprises me, Granger does. Like the fact that she slapped me, and stepped on my foot. That was impressive. But I never would've thought I'd see her at a dance club, with a dance move to match. And I never thought she'd fall for somebody who isn't even half as intelligent as she is. Potter and Weasley annoy the hell out of me, but maybe she would be willing to form a... an... an alliance. We could help each other... His mind began to churn with the possibilities.

--------------------------------------------------

"Um... Hermione." Ron's voice held a hint of nervousness, and she raised her eyebrows at this unexpected caution.

"Hello Ron. And..." She tried not to glare at his accomplice.

"Erika." She provided. Hermione suddenly felt self-conscious as the girl gave her a once-over and then hosted an expression that clearly stated she thought Hermione wasn't a threat.

I'll just call her the competition. I don't love her, so I'll just speak to the one I do.

"I haven't seen Pig in a while."

"Yeah."

I thought perhaps a cold approach could result in an apology, but I guess not. She turned to leave.

"Wait." _Finally._

"Um... I'll see you later, okay? You're staying at the Leaky Cauldron, right?" _Does Ron honestly think this is an acceptable conversation? That's sickening!_

"No, actually I came to Diagon Alley to get my school supplies before Spain. I'll see you at Hogwarts." This was a lie. However, Hermione felt the need to tell it in order to sort out her feelings, and how she was going to handle them when nine months of seeing him came into play. When she turned this time, he didn't stop her, and she didn't look back. The EXIT sign gleamed a brilliant shade of red ahead, and that was her destination.

"GRANGER!" She was disappointed, because she knew it wasn't Ron's voice; it was Draco's.

"What do you want?" There was no use pretending they were friends or anything of the sort.

"I can help!"

"What?"

"You're after Ron, and Ron's after Erika. I'm after Erika... Well, sort of. Ron's not a little boy anymore, and he wants a big girl. If you prove that you're a candidate, then maybe he'll want you!" _What in bloody hell is Malfoy trying to say? _"We can help each other."

"How? I don't understand. You would never show visible interest in my issues."

"Well, there is an incentive, for both of us. I'll give you advice about boys, and you'll give me advice about girls... Not that I need any. Then we'll train each other."

Hermione began to mull over the idea. Now she could see Draco volunteering his assistance. He would receive something in return, but yet, so would she. If she really cared about Ron, she would give it a try. Nodding slowly, relaxation spread on his face. "Excellent. We'll start at Hogwarts." They shook hands quickly and went their separate directions. Just as she was about to enter the entrance to the alley, she heard her name once more.  
  
"GRANGER!" They were forced to yell due to the distance.

"WHAT?"  
  
"YOU MIGHT WANT TO LOSE THE LOVE HANDLE!" He was gone.

Hermione looked down and saw a visible roll of skin through her shirt. _Great, _she thought sarcastically, and ran back to The Leaky Cauldron.

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	3. ThReE

**Official Information**

**Title: **The Extreme

**Author: **Enchanted Ink

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter indica is the property of **J. K. Rowling **and the **Warner Bros. Association; NOT ME **:(

**Summary: **H. A. Granger is in love- with the youngest male Weasley. There is one problem. Ron is no longer an innocent, awkward boy, and she has come to the conclusion that he is after another girl... Her enemy is a master in the art of relationships, and she will do anything for his council.

**Rating: **PG-13 for possible:

-Language

-Sexual Content

-Violence

-Drugs &/or Alcohol

**Extra Info.: **Words in _italic _indicate thought or emphasis on the given term.

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay. I have some awknowledgements to make.

PureSunshine: Thank you very much for your review! I'm really happy that you thought the aspects like the love handle and the clothes make the story more realistic, that's what I wanted. I hope that it keeps you interested. I'm going to try.

Lucyferina: I really like the fact that I'm getting positive feedback on the beginning, because usually that's what worries me the most. Thanks!

Remix2002: I'm going to try to update a.s.a.p. at every post, I appreciate your interest!

brinky: Yay! I've never really thought of it as cute, but I'll assume that's a good thing!

Amoria: When a person gains wait, their stomachs are no longer flat, they get 'rolls' of skin. One roll is called a love handle. Her shirt, although not see-through, would still show a visible bulge. I remember being confused when I first heard the phrase, too. I hope that you feel better, and thank you for your review.

highinthesky7: I'm thrilled that you gave me advice on that particular subject, I've been too scared that I'm starting to ramble that I probably exclude a lot of details the story would normally have.

I would also like to show gratitude toward:

-ek398

-Fiery Phoenix

-Scarlet Suspense

I'm glad I'm qualified for your Author Watch Lists.

**Thank you so much! **

**3**

Hermione Granger ran. Cold wind... Blurry objects speeding by... The distinct sound of her feet hitting the asphalt in an orderly pattern... Love handles were not loveable, and with this conclusion Hermione Granger ran. It was an addiction.

Greens transitioned to reds and oranges as summer transitioned to fall. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry loomed in Hermione's memory. She could vision the large brick castle with perfection, an imprint left from the time she had spent there. Now it was only a matter of time in which she would journey back for her final studies... For her final opportunity to win Ron's love.

Vulnerable.

Hermione had exercised, and exercised, and exercised, and exercised, and exercised continuously. Draco's remark had left her vulnerable, not just to him but to the whole world. It was a paranoia that no matter where she went, people were staring at her with judgement. She felt that _everyone_, not just herself, was obsessed with her weight.

Hermione remembered hearing rumors at school about the anorexic girls in fourth year. She remembered thinking it was all nonsense. Now she could relate. _I would never starve myself, my self-control isn't that great. But now I know why they weren't eating. They were hungry for beauty. Their solutions just weren't ideal_. With these thoughts, she ate, but lightly due to her purpose.

--------------------------------------------------

Platform 9 3/4 was busy and bustling with people. Hermione huffed heavily, anxious for the traffic to dissipate so she could slip through the 'concrete wall' she was leaning against. She had not seen Harry for several weeks, due to the fact that he was being held hostage with the Dursleys and had asked her to purchase his school supplies. As a result, her trunks were more hefty than usual.

As for Ron... Thoughts of him brought her thoughts sailing downward to her luggage, where stacks of reading material would allow her and Malfoy to trade tips on the opposite sex. She had poured over the thin, papery pages, both muggle and magical, in order to train herself. She had no idea there were so many relationship rules.

The Leaky Cauldron had left her wary at night, when strangers swarmed into the pub in streams. She could not bring herself to leave the safety of her room, and she sat up during the darkness pondering the scenario, the strangeness of it all. Questions raced through her mind._Why would Malfoy want to accept advice from me? I don't really have a romantic life to speak of._

_Who does Malfoy fancy, if anyone at all? And if he doesn't fancy anyone, why does he want advice?_

_And does he need advice? I'm not blind, and I know that most females find him charismatic. _Hermione had fallen asleep that night, trying to make sense of it all. She knew one thing; if most females found him charismatic, his advice would be very valuable.

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The winding scarlet train whistled as Hermione searched for two familiar faces. Due to the fact that she was Head Girl, she would not be sitting with Harry or Ron, and she wanted to inform them. Boarding the train, she went to the compartment reserved for her and her companion and panted with exertion as she attempted to put her trunk on the luggage rack.

Arms stronger than hers appeared and helped her complete the task. She sat down and shut her eyes, relieved, and finally managed to breathe, "Thank you." Opening her eyes, she shot up out of her seat and exclaimed, "What... what on earth... What are you doing here?"

Just then, a small knock was heard on the door. Messy black hair, bright green eyes, and a familiar grin that belonged to Harry Potter sat smiling back at her as Hermione glanced over once quickly, and then once again longer. She was thrilled to see him, and showed him so by throwing open the compartment entrance and throwing her arms around him in a hug.

As they broke apart, she saw his eyes grow round in surprise as he surveyed the other boy in the section wearing a shiny badge with the Head Boy inscription. "Ron?"

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The feast was excellent, as usual, and Hermione was glad that Ron was acting relatively normal. Not only had he changed physically, but also mentally. The fact that he was still eating great, heaping portions gave Hermione an odd sense of security.

_I suppose I like normalcy. No wonder I'm so boring. Maybe if I were more daring or spontaneous, Ron would like me. I wonder if that's what he finds attractive about that Swan wench. _It took all of her strength not to turn her head and stare at the Hufflepuff table, but she managed, if just barely. Her thoughts continued to race.

_I'll be sharing a tower with Ron. Ron Weasley. Ronald Weasley. Hermione and Ron. Hermione and Ron Weasley. Hermione and Ronald Weasley... Okay, I'm going to shut myself up now. _Hermione could almost feel her face heat up at her thoughts and what they implied. _It's ridiculous to be humiliated by your own thoughts, _she reasoned, _but still..._

--------------------------------------------------

As the procession of students made their march up winding, moving staircases with realistic, chatty paintings, Hermione breathed in that scent. The scent of an ancient monument dedicated to education. She began to feel that eagerness to learn, and she knew she hadn't changed as much as she thought she had, which brought a frown to her features.

_If Ron didn't like me before and now, then if he ever likes me in the future it's because I'm different. _

Hermione left the band of boys and girls in first through seventh year and headed off to the lavatory. At the sink, while washing her hands, a handsome black eagle floated through the doorway with a small roll of parchment. Reaching for the extended leg and gingerly undoing the small knot, she glanced at the words and felt an instant spark of interest.

**_Granger,_**

**_Meet me in the Divination Tower at 12:00 p.m. for your first lesson. _**

**_And mine, I suppose. _**

**_D.M._**

_Classes haven't even started yet. Lessons so early? Oh well, I'll just ask Harry if I can borrow his Invisibility Cloak. I'll tell him I want to get a start on Divination reading and I need it to sneak into the library. He'll believe me, it's not exactly out of my character._

_--------------------------------------------------_

Harry had allowed Hermione to use his cloak, and when he handed it to her the scowl on his face showed he thought she was being unreasonable.

The Divination Tower was quite a distance away, so Hermione set out for her destination at 11:30. Although her cloak was better protection than she could've hoped for, she snuck in the shadows upon instinct.With labored breath, Hermione came upon the trap door that lowered down a rope, the form of transportation she would need to ascend into the tower itself. Malfoy was already there.

The fireplace showed him in profile.

His blonde hair was touseled, long strands of the fine, silvery hair hanging over his forehead. His eyes, brown, were surprisingly soft and golden, with flecks of black conjured from the flames.

His broad shoulders were hunched as he sat down on one of the class cushions, his height obvious due to the fact that he looked so awkward.

He was wearing his white school shirt with the cuffs undone, the first three buttons undone, untucked, with matching baggy black muggle jeans that were completed with a silver chain. As his head shifted, she noticed a crystal stud in his ear. His manly appearance made her breath catch in her throat, and suddenly she remembered the last words he had said to her.

Glancing downward, she was relieved to see that the black sweater she had chosen, although rather dull, made her love handle disappear. It was leaving, although at a slow pace, after all of the effort she had made. Clearing her throat, he looked up with a startled expression. Standing, he yawned and spoke.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice husky from the fact that he hadn't spoken for some time.

Hermione lied and nodded, because for now...

She wasn't quite sure if she was.


	4. FoUr

**Official Information**

**Title: **The Extreme

**Author: **Enchanted Ink

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter indica is the property of **J. K. Rowling **and the **Warner Bros. Association; NOT ME **:(

**Summary: **H. A. Granger is in love- with the youngest male Weasley. There is one problem. Ron is no longer an innocent, awkward boy, and she has come to the conclusion that he is after another girl... Her enemy is a master in the art of relationships, and she will do anything for his council.

**Rating: **PG-13 for possible:

-Language

-Sexual Content

-Violence

-Drugs &/or Alcohol

**Extra Info.: **Words in _italic _indicate thought or emphasis on the given term.

**A/N: **I AM SO SORRY! I would've updated a million days sooner, but I was, and still am, grounded. I was at my grandparents, however, who have a computer, and I was able to write the next chapter, although a little hurriedly. I'm sorry if it shows in my writing, and I'll try to update again soon.

**Thank you to:**

**-lucyferina: **Lol, I am aware of the fact that most people refer to Draco's eye color as blue/gray. However, the current visual I have of Draco Malfoy is Tom Felton, and he appears to have brown eyes... Plus, I'm a sucker for that combination!

-HYPERdingdong39: Is that a cliffhanger? Wow, I didn't realize... Thanks for your review.

-HPROXMYSOX: Oh I know! Tom is... Well, what I'm thinking isn't appropriate to describe in a review response, but thank you!

-PsYcHoJo: I agree with the whole prick thing... And I don't particularly like Hermione/Ron, so I think that might say something about the future of this fic. I'm glad you reviewed!

-XxXHermione-GrangerXxX: Thanks! I'm ecstatic that your ecstatic!

-PureSunshine: Um... Lol... I love an ear-piercing on a male... Just one... In one ear... A crystal/diamond... Grins Weakly And I can see Tom Felton with one, easily. It could be like him to have that, though, because usually you think of a bad guy. Well, not bad, but... ANYWAY, thanks for your review!

-Lover del Dragon: I know :D. I'll try not to get grounded so I can update soon, lol!

-H**.P.Catlover: **I'll continue... Lol, I'm not quite sure where the story is going to go. But the updates will hopefully keep rolling in! Thanks.

-Vianne: Yay! Thanks so much :)

-Celebrean: I'm on your Favorite List? Sobs I'm actually proud. Thanks...

-thoroughbredchickie: I appreciate your honesty. It means that you are used to the characters J. K. Rowling invented, and that's very flattering to an author. However, aspects like Ron dancing erotically with a girl, and Hermione having a love handle (which doesn't mean she's fat, because technically, I have five and I refer to myself as big-boned ;) are things that make the short story I've created original. As for this chapter... I'm sorry in advance if this chapter makes you uncomfortable, because it might. Thank you, though, I'm really glad that you shared your genuine opinion with me.

-Lilykins: I hope it works out for you, and thanks a million!

**--------------------------------------------------**

**3**

Hermione lowered herself onto a Divination cushion, filled with silent gratitude for the brief distraction it provided. Glancing up, Malfoy appeared almost anxious to begin. He would, after all, have the opportunity to be bossy, and give snide 'constructive criticism', and she supposed it was this lure that made his expression so excited.

"There are several steps that make the development of a relationship successful. Do you know what the first step is?"

Wow. He sounds... SMART, as if he knows what he's talking about. And his voice. It's proper. I guess he's taking this teaching scenario seriously. She decided to be mature and mannerly, as he was being. She _was _doing this for the love of her life, right? With this goal in mind, she took a stab at the question. "Communication?"

"That's partially correct." Usually, Hermione would be stunned to realize her answer was wrong. Instead, she was proud, proud to prove to Malfoy she knew a thing, or maybe two, about their current topic. "There are two types of communication: verbal, and physical." This blunt statement made Hermione's body stiffen. It was suggestive, and by the small smirk at the corner of his mouth, he knew it.

"Now, do you what is most important in your situation?"

Hermione shook her head. She didn't want to embarrass herself. _Ron is wrapped around the manicured finger of that wench, so obviously he's more into physical stages right now. If I were to tell Malfoy I want to learn about that type of communication right now, he would assume... That I'm some sort of eager girl ready to jump his bones._

"Being physical. You can guess why, of course?" he asked. Hermione nodded. For some odd reason, she didn't quite trust her voice. "However, being verbal isn't that far behind. Weasley assumes that you are... Well, a nerd. That's the only side of you he's seen. You need to prove to him that you can be what he wants. Because of this, you're going to learn these trades hand in hand. One doesn't come before the other. What is Ron's biggest hobby?" 

"Quidditch," she blurted. It was the most obvious question Malfoy could've asked. The Chudley Canons were his life, and all you had to do was set foot in his bedroom once to learn this bit of trivia. She remembered an orange Chudley Canons hat Harry had gotten Ron for Christmas one year, and how it had clashed terribly with his flaming locks. Hermione smiled slightly at the memory, because she had found his fondness of it cute.

Draco cleared his throat. "What do you know about Quidditch?"

Hermione almost blushed. "Um... Well, n-nothing." She hated herself for stuttering, letting him feel so influential.

"You were involved with Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker, and yet you know nothing of the sport?" Now she was sure her cheeks were a deep shade of crimson. Once again, shaking her head in the 'no' gesture was the only motion she could complete without cowering.

"Oh well. We'll have to start immediately." He pulled out a familiar book, with a green leather cover with yellow text on the front. Quidditch Through the Ages was splashed on the front, with a red stamp that proclaimed it was the property of the Hogwarts Library. "Hermione Granger checked this book out with the due date of March 2nd. You don't remember reading any of this?"

"I didn't have time. I was studying for finals." Malfoy rolled his eyes. _How predictable! _he thought.

"Well, this time you have to read it, and remember it. Focus particularly on his favorite team, and if you don't know it, find out what it is. I'm sure you attend matches, but from now on you have to be attentive, it will give you something to discuss, and probably make him show more interest in you. Focus mainly on chapters seven, eight, nine, and ten, but make sure you know the positions and their equipment, along with scoring."

Hermione tried to take it all in. _My life is going to be under some serious construction. I'll have to alter so much for him. He's worth it, but the impact is enough to make me reconsider everything._

She hadn't realized the fact that she had groaned, but he had.

"It's a lot. I know. But if you love him... You just have to tell yourself that the incentive will pay off, and if you love him... It will."

What in hell was that? Did Malfoy give me advice? That sounded stupid. That's the point of this lesson, to receive advice. But... It was more than teaching. It was personal. He was sharing a part of himself, a part of his own love knowledge. Woah.

Malfoy himself broke her thoughts about him when he said, "Now, for your physical training."

Oh no, oh no. He's talking about my weight. He's noticed then. I'm going to get verbally whipped. This black rag didn't help me one...

"I think we should improve your dancing technique."

"What?"

"You're. Dancing. Technique."

"Oh, right."

Hermione was standing, as was Malfoy, and they stared at each other from a small distance of three feet. Their eyes connected as they discussed what was about to occur.

"How do you feel when you dance, Granger?" She literally took the time to think about this, and answered truthfully.

"I feel clumsy. I feel masculine. I feel self-conscious. Everyone is watching me, because I'm amusing, and that's the last thing I want. I-" Malfoy cut her off.

"Dance is not supposed to make you feel that way. It is the most sensual skill a female can use. You should feel exotic." Hermione shut her eyes, trying to focus completely on his words. He continued. "It is silent, which means that physical contact has to speak for itself. Eye contact is necessary. If the physical contact you make is so fluid you don't have to think, you've found a match. If it isn't, you haven't. You shouldn't feel clumsy, masculine, self-conscious, or like the butt of a joke."

He took a step toward her, and she felt something completely unexpected...

Comfort.

With a swish and flick, Malfoy muttered incoherent words and music poured from his wand. It was a song, with a female voice, a fresh beat, and breathy sighs in the background that were intimate and made Hermione's heart race.

"If you were at The Extreme and a song similar to this was playing, you'd have to make an approach. As I said, eye contact is necessary. Imagine that he's sitting at the crowded bar, alone, waiting for someone... You. You see him, and weave your way through bodies. He spots you, hooked, and your eyes are playful. You let your heart feel for him, and it shows through your eyes, that's how simple it is."

Malfoy's imagery made Hermione shut her eyes again. She could actually see herself.

She could feel herself walking, not fast, because she wanted every moment slow, and almost sacred.

She could feel herself clasp Ron's hands, pulling him lightly to the center of the throngs of people.

She could feel the jolt as they stopped, frozen, staring into each other's eyes for a moment, an instant before.

She could feel Ron's hands settle on her waist, pull her forward, their bodies not touching.

And then an undeniable rush as they did. _Oh Ron..._

Hands lightly pressed together, torsos leaning back and forth towards each other, feet slowly working up a rhythm . Hermione found that she wasn't clumsy in the slightest. In fact, none of her insecurities came into place. They shimmied in a circle, and then went around each other, the transition smooth as silk. Then he turned her, and strong hands were on hips. As one pair moved forward, the other moved back. Hands went into the air like snakes and their charmers, and fluttered back down to link together in a complicated pattern.

Intensity. Hermione found that she didn't have to think. She wasn't even aware of her own breath, but she was of his lightly on the back of her neck, so close, but too far. She liked the teasing feeling.

As they slowed, she ran her hands through Ron's hair.

And when she opened her eyes, anxious to look into Ron's merry bluish orbs, she came face to face with hands, her own, tangled in blonde masses. Feeling strangled, she found herself looking into brown eyes, that were dancing.

Malfoy was laughing at her.

--------------------------------------------------


	5. FiVe

**Official Information**  


**Title: **The Extreme

  
**Author: **Enchanted Ink

  
**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter indica is the property of **J. K. Rowling **and the **Warner Bros. ****Association; NOT ME **:(  


****

**Summary: **H. A. Granger is in love- with the youngest male Weasley. There is one problem. Ron is no longer an innocent, awkward boy, and she has come to the conclusion that he is after another girl... Her enemy is a master in the art of relationships, and she will do anything for his council.  


****

**Rating: **PG-13 for possible:  
-Language  
-Sexual Content  
-Violence  
-Drugs &/or Alcohol  


****

**Extra Info.: **Words in _italic_ indicate thought or emphasis on the given term.  


****

**A/N: **I'm so sorry... My muse has been mal-functioning, and I REALLY hope that you like this chapter. I would like to thank these people for reviewing, too! 

**-Lover del Dragon  
**

**-lucyferina  
**

**-thoroughbredchickie  
****-relena333  
****-Pure Sunshine  
****-ShizukaSelphie  
****-Jen Drake  
****-Your Reader**

**-Celebrean**

**-HPROXMYSOX  
**

I LOVE YOU! **Thank you.**

**  
**--------------------------------------------------  


**5**

A large, circular room with an elaborate fireplace, comfortable armchairs, and solid mahogany desks made up the Common Room of the Head Tower. Hermione found great comfort in this tower, and the homely, quaintness it posessed. 

She found comfort in her personal master bathroom, with its cold marble floors, crystal taps, and dim lighting. She found comfort in the balcony, which, with its iron railing was designed with curvy roses. She found comfort in her bedroom, which was more impressive than anything she had laid eyes on before. She didn't find comfort in one aspect of her new quarters, however: 

Ron. Ron. Who was he? Not the young, gangly boy he had been in first year, surely. And second, and third and fourth... Ron was a stranger.   


He didn't speak to her on a regular basis. Instead, he exchanged brief phrases that were used mostly to be polite.   


He didn't spend much time in their Common Room. Instead, he came through the entrance, gave a nod of recognition, and went straight to his room.   


He didn't sit with her and Harry that much at meals. Instead, his seemingly new company was Seamus, Neville, and Dean, who shared his new obsession: women, obviously.   


What had been important to him now was not- owling his brothers, all of whom were out of Hogwarts, playing matches of Wizarding Chess with anyone and everyone, and the small devotion to his work; it had disappeared. 

It was a miracle, him becoming the Head Boy. What irked Hermione the most was that, although Ron didn't speak as frequently to Harry anymore, he spoke to him more than he spoke to her. Although Hermione was not particularly fond of this bizarre change of behavior, she was driven to learn about the new Ron. He was foreign, and in a strange sense this excited her.   


On a particularly miserable day in September, Hermione sat at a window seat, watching the rain splatter against the window. Her body was still, but her thoughts were racing. She was replaying her first lesson with Malfoy, and how she was still humiliated over the fact that she had gotten so caught up in the moment that she had believed Malfoy was Ron.   


He had laughed.   


Hermione had never heard him actually laugh before- it sounded rusty, as if he hadn't done it in quite some time. Hermione would've enjoyed it, in fact, if he hadn't been laughing _at_ her, but _with_ her. 

She hadn't laughed. 

There was nothing humorous about getting caught in the moment with Malfoy. She remembered how blown out of the water she'd been when she had found brown eyes. After she had untangled her hands, his blonde hair had been mussed. Recalling his expression, he had, surprising, not been angry.   


There was one detail, one minuscule detail, that still puzzled her. She couldn't believe the irony of it. 

  
_I felt comfortable... With Malfoy. How is this possible when I can't even feel comfortable with Ron? _It was a mystery she was not sure she would ever solve.   


--------------------------------------------------

History of Magic, the only class taught by a ghost, Professor Bins, was also the only class that could make an entire class of pupils fall asleep in less than sixty seconds. Most unknowing first year students didn't know how gory goblin rebellions could be boring until they sat through five minutes, and it was a struggle even for Hermione to keep her yawns polite and silent.   


Professor Bins was tougher than nails. 

Not only did he make learning a totally repulsive experience, but his exams were perhaps the most difficult out of all Hogwarts curriculum. 

Hermione had already finished the test, but other students were still scribbling fantically, quills sliding across smooth pieces of parchment. She kept on glancing over, trying not to stare.   


In all of Hermione's years at the magical school, Ron never gave up on pleading with his female friend to cheat. Due to the fact that he hadn't been hanging out with her, she was surprised when he leaned over and whispered quickly and quietly in her ear. As his smooth voice shattered her silence, she jumped in surprise but thankfully managed not to scream.   


"Hermione?" he sounded uncertain.   


__

_I shouldn't cheat. I never have. But, this is different... Kind of. I mean, I've done some stuff before, I'm not a perfectionist. Okay... I am. I don't want to be. I can prove I'm not. Then maybe Ron will see I'm changing. I'll help him... Just this once. What harm can it do? _

"What's number fourteen?" He licked his lips and looked over at Binns, who was looking in the other direction as he glided back and forth, hovering a few feet above the floor. Hermione slid her paper towards the side of her desk. His eyes widened for a brief moment, looking at her as if she were a puzzle. Hermione couldn't help but feel flattered. 

_I guess I like to be noticed. _And then time froze. Her desk made the loudest noise: _SCREEEEEEEEEECH! _

Her cover was blown as the teacher snapped to attention with an alert glare. "Miss Granger! WHAT ON EARTH? Of all students... I thought that you..." He wouldn't stop shaking his head. "Cheating! Her!" He was rambling to himself.   


He finally came to a proper punishment as several others stared at her in the same awe, the same admiration in their glazed faces that she had just seen from Ron. Although she had just recieved a detention, herself, Hermione Granger, the most rule-abiding witch in the school, she was thrilled.   


Ecstatic, even... Because she was serving her detention with Ron.  


--------------------------------------------------  


Dinner that night tasted extremely tasty to Hermione, although she ate healthy with salad and chicken. Perhaps she was a fool to get excited about cleaning classrooms that were never used, but she and Ron could be a team. Maybe she could even coax him into a conversation. 

_Heaven only knows what pathetic things I'll say. Oh well. I'll owl Malfoy and tell him what Binns is making me do. I'll have to get my lesson postponed.  
_

She didn't have to owl Malfoy, however, because an opportunity arose to speak to him directly after her meal in the Great Hall. He came to her. She was walking along a corridor, on the fifth floor.

  
"Granger!" he hissed, and she stopped in her steps as he caught up to her. "What about your lesson?" Hermione cast a nervous eye over his shoulder, and behind her own.   


"Perhaps we should discuss this someplace more private." He nodded his agreement and bobbed his head in the direction of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. There was still an out of order on the strong door, and she suspected there always would be. You never knew when a student like Harry would come along, even if an event like that was extremely unlikely. 

She pushed her way into the girl's lavatory and walked over to the sinks, where she leaned against the cold porcelin. Malfoy stood, almost uneasily, by the entrance. That's when she realized the ghost of the dead girl, Myrtle, was floating by a stall door.   


Hermione smiled. She hadn't spoken the ghost for ages, and what shocked her was the fact that Moaning Myrtle wasn't crying, sobbing, or moaning, even. Looking back at Malfoy's face, she almost laughed. "Oooooh! You brought a boy with you Hermione! If a teacher finds you, you're going to get it."   


"This is Malfoy. Malfoy, this is Myrtle. We were just going to chat."  


"Yeah, sure." The ghost smiled lazily at Malfoy. "Hello, Draco!" she sang, giggling at the fact that she had just rymed and he was a male. Then she turned her attention back to Hermione.  
"Guess what! I got a visitor yesterday!" Hermione knew immediately who it was. 

Ginny still frequently visited the bathroom that haunted all of their pasts, something Malfoy knew nothing about. She gave her the best glare she could manage, but the girl still didn't get the message. She took a step closer to her companion, ready to usher him out. But it was too late. With the next words she spoke, Malfoy was looking quite intrigued.   


"Would you believe that after all of these years, she still didn't know about the Polyjuice potion? You know, the one that turned you into a cat?" Hermione could've died. Not only was the tale humiliating, but they had used the substance to spy on Malfoy, to see if he was the heir of Slytherin.

Still, the ghost girl ranted...

"I remember that charming young man, Harry. I hear he hasn't died yet, what a pity. Don't you remember? I told him he could share a toilet with me. I don't like to go into the stall you were transformed in, 'cause of your eyes. Those big, yellow eyes, just like the basilisks..."

That was it. The final straw. Enough. Just as she was about to whip out her wand and issue a spell, Moaning Myrtle made her last statement.

"I must be off, now! Didn't I tell you? Sir Nick finally got into the Headless Hunt, or whatever... He's performing tonight! Bye Hermione. Bye, Draco!"

An audible splash was heard as she dove into a toilet.

--------------------------------------------------

Draco Malfoy could not stop staring at his unlikely companion. She was stunning, suddenly. 

_A Polyjuice Potion? Transformations? The Chamber of Secrets? She seems so... so boring,_ he thought. _But apparently not. I remember her being awarded house points in first year, something to do with... Well, I don't know. I wish she would tell me._

They were in the Hogwarts kitchen, and he grasped a mug of steaming tea in his palms as Hermione took a small sip out of her own from across the table.

As she looked up, she saw questions in his face, and sighed.

With this sigh, he could've smiled... Because he knew he was about to recieve answers.

--------------------------------------------------


	6. SiX

****************************

Official Information

Title: The Extreme

Author: Enchanted Ink

Disclaimer: Harry Potter indica is the property of **J. K. Rowling **and the **Warner Bros. Association; NOT ME.**

Summary: H. A. Granger is in love- with the youngest male Weasley. There is one problem. Ron is no longer an innocent, awkward boy, and she has come to the conclusion that he is after another girl... Her enemy is a master in the art of relationships, and she will do anything for his council.

Rating: PG-13 for possible:

-Language

-Sexual Content

-Violence

-Drugs &/or Alcohol

Extra Info.: Words in _italic _indicate thought or emphasis on the given term. I am aware of the fact that Draco Malfoy's eyes are usually referred to as blue.

A/N: I AM SO SORRY! I wasn't able to update... Due to problems with the tower... I haven't had the computer for a month. I got this chapter posted as soon as we got it back. I'll try to update this week.

About the story: In this chapter there is a somewhat **graphic **flashback. I felt it was necessary for the outcome of the story, and I hate sensoring my writing. It's still PG-13, but more strongly so than everything about this story I've written.

In the meantime, thank you very much to:

-Lover del Dragon

-Celebrean

-Pure Sunshine

-wendy

-Shizuka Selphie

-relena 333

-MRS. CPT

-quiet-one145

-lucyferina

-CozzaGirl16

-HPROXMYSOX

-Scarlet Suspense

-thoroughbredchick

-Lara Potter

-Solain Rhyo

-JesterFeign

Thank you all again for reviewing and sharing your support. I appreciate it. After a month of being off track due to technical crap I wondered if I should finish. My motivation was you.

--------------------------------------------------

6

Hermione Granger's favorite aspect of the Common Room of her new quarters was the cozy, quaint fireplace built into the wall. She inhaled, basking in the crisp scent of burning flames, listening to the crackling logs. She came to the sudden conclusion that she was smiling. Because of the fact that she was quite alone on the loveseat centered in front of the hearth, she didn't force herself to forget about the lengthy verbal exchange involving herself and Draco Malfoy.

She didn't _want_ to forget the lengthy verbal exchange involving herself and Draco Malfoy. Never before had anyone been so enthusiastic to hear her adventures.

To Harry, they weren't neccessarily adventures, but excruciating excursions his heritage forced him to hold upon his shoulders. His birthrite.

To Ron, they were wonderful tales he told other girls to win their affection, _tools_. Because Hermione had encountered them with him, he had never felt the need to discuss them with her.

To Albus Dumbledore, they were obstacles, tests.

To her parents, well... They were oblivious, although that was an understatement, really.

To Viktor Krum, the only other male who had made her feel feminine, her first relationship, he hadn't cared. Period. He had been incredibly self-centered. _He was infatuated with himself and that Wonky Feint._

To Draco Malfoy, they were something different.

Hermione had woven wondrous images of a world completely different from the one he obviously lived in. His eyes had transformed into portals, and she knew her imagery was making magic. They had gone to the Hogwarts Kitchen, where they conversed over several cups of tea. She had time to study his face.

It was boyish at intervals, when he heard about basilisks, swords from Godric Gryffindor, and the Time Turner. When he heard about more complicated scenarios, like mixing potions from pure logic, escaped convicts, and absurd predictions from Sybil Trelawny his face grew serious.

His blonde hair, bordering white, tousled at an angle where a few casual strands contrasted against his face, his brown eyes that gleamed with a golden intensity that jarred her, that set of lips that were surprisingly red with an appearance of fragility... She found her stomach stirring madly, and she remembered that most people would call it a case of 'butterflies.' Her breath had come shallow during her miniature autobiography.

She thought about what her behavior with him, and was dumb-founded... Never before had she had a detention... And never before had she _deliberately _ditched one.

--------------------------------------------------

Draco Malfoy felt as though everything he had encountered that evening was completely surreal. He thought about his own hardships, seeing how pathetic his past was compared to hers. On the outside, she was dull, destined to be the next Madam Pince, her nose always near a novel. Now... Now he couldn't describe anything anymore.

Being Lucious Malfoy's son had its ups and downs. His father was constantly claiming that Narcissa, his wife, was a wench. He called her names _continuously_, he slapped her around for the most minor of things, and threats were not out of the ordinary.

I love my mother, but I don't like her, he thought, almost wryly. And I'd have the death penalty reinstated for my father. My family is fucked.

His mind moved over many topics, settling once again on Hermione._Granger is gutsy. _His mind managed to rewind movements, words, and motions until he came upon the piece of conversing that puzzled him the most.

He remembered her saying, "I have detention. Thank you for tea. Owl me about rescheduling the les-"

"Don't," he interupted.

"Don't what?"

"Don't go to detention." He almost flinched, feeling foolish for fretting so openly. "I mean, you want to be spontaneous, right?" She gave a half nod, not sure of where this was leading. "You shouldn't go to detention. You want Weasley to think you're this enigma, a puzzle he can't solve. You'll attract his attention and he'll be watching you more closely."

So she had stayed. She had believed his lie.

Honestly, he had wanted her companionship. He had wanted her to tell him stories, like Wendy in Peter Pan. He wrinkled his nose.

I always hated that tale, Peter Pan. She grows old, riddled with age, while he's stuck on an unmoving earth, left to be young, naive, and lonely for the rest of his miserable life. Refusing reality. Maybe I wish I could collect foolish fantasies and reject reality.

She was a friend to him now, whether he was a friend to her, and he had precious few of those.

--------------------------------------------------

Hermione recieved a roll of parchment with instructions at breakfast, telling her to attend detention every day for two weeks. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glance of another owl landing with the same notice for Ron. He had been sending her odd, searching looks all morning. She knew he was curious. She also new he was filled with admiration for her rebel reasoning.

Draco had rescheduled their next lesson for that night, during dinner. He figured if she became more mysteriously absent, maybe Ron would take the initiative to talk to her, inquire about her agenda. In the meantime, so looked at her plate with a loathing expression. She wanted to pour sweet maple syrup over her short stack of pancakes. She wanted to smother them in whipped cream and strawberries.

Instead, she grabbed a piece of plain toast and thrust herself away from large oak table. She was in her a pair of her grubbies, and she went back to her dormitory. It was Saturday. Her solid weeks of detention did not start until Monday. Returning to her chambers, she changed into a tight tank top and a pair of jogging shorts. Throwing a sweatshirt on, she threw her hair into a sloppy ponytail and made her way to the grounds.

Students strided everywhere, milling under trees with homework, venturing over to the Quidditch Pitch to watch the house practices... But no one was exercising. Hermione gazed at the grounds, trying to find a simple, subtle place she could jog where people wouldn't be gawking at her. Suddenly, a familiar face froze in her line of vision. Grinning, she waved Rubeus Hagrid over.

"'Ello there, 'ermione! Congradulations on Head Girl. Lots fer you ter do."

"Thank you, Hagrid." Hermione couldn't bear to contain her beaming smile.

"You haven't come ter visit me yet. Neither 'as 'arry. Or Ron." An uneasy silence grew between them.

"I'm sorry." She made an effort to sound as genuine as she could. "I _have _had a lot of new responsibilities lately, I'm afraid. Harry has too. But Ron..." She was surprised and startled when Hagrid nodded.

"He's diff'rent, now, that one. He's forgotten where 'is priorities lie." She looked at him sharply. Sometimes she forgot how knowing the giant was, how genuinely interested he was in all of their wellfare. "I have ter be off now, Poppy'll be expectin' the newes' batch o' rhubarb." Wordlessly she gave him a hug. As he turned to go, she called after him.

"Do you know where I could jog?"

"A skinny thing like you? What do you need joggin' fer?" She shrugged. He pointed toward the Forbidden Forest. "Just behind meh cabin there you'll be seenin' lots o' trees. Go into the fores' about two feet n' you'll be on a path. Follow it ter the right an' then you'll come across a wooden dock. Go through the trees you'll see there n' then you'll see a lake. You can jog 'round it, there's dirt n' all that packed on tha' ground." He winked at her, and she couldn't help letting a small giggle escape her throat.

"Thank you for directions," she said. She was off.

--------------------------------------------------

Hermione felt a sense of exasperation as she trotted down the trail toward her destination. Hagrid took massive, striding steps and to him this path was probably a piece of cake. One of his steps was practically three of Hermione's. She felt like she had achieved much exercise already. Part of her body wanted to turn around and return, but something in her kept on nagging her, dragging her forward.

As the wooden dock slid plainly into view, she heard a faint but audible splash.

One of these days, my curiosity is going to kill me. As she walked through the clearing of trees as instructed, she could not stop her mouth from dropping open into a comical 'oh.' Her sub-concious told her to be quiet, and she was, cautiously stepping over sticks and stones.

And the first thing that came into her field of vision was the sight of Draco Malfoy's naked torso.

--------------------------------------------------

Draco Malfoy was in love with water. He was a passionate person, and when it came to swimming, the mere thought of the sport was enough to make him smile. When he combined it and Quidditch, he felt free, feral excitement. He had just been through intense training, and now his muscles were aching.

As soon as he hit his spot, he quit agonizing over his limp body and stripped down to a pair of swimming trunks he had been wearing underneath his Slytherin robes. Sliding into the lake and slicing through the calmness made instant relaxation come to him. Looking down, he observed his well-worked arms. They were strong, but he noticed a big blue bruise on his shoulder from a stray bludger. Looking at the other arm, he saw tiny scrapes from falling from his broomstick, curtesy of a freak incident with a quaffle to the head. They were fresh. But as his gaze roved down his body, he noticed the scars that would never heal.

Lucious Malfoy was famous for many things; for his long, white, trademark Malfoy hair and his vicious, trademark Malfoy smirk. He was rich and successful, but he was cruel and mean. On top of that, he was never seen without his cain. By his self-confident gait, it was apparent that he didn't need the support it provided, but none-the-less... The handle was an intricate silver serpant with emeralds for eyes. If you looked closely at the fangs, they appeared rusty and ancient.

The rust, however, was blood.

Flashback

He had been three. _Three! _The mansion had a georgeous garden designed to delight Narcissa Malfoy. Draco decided he liked flowers, and he snuck in without permission and picked all of the blooms that she had worked endlessly to plant herself, with pride and perseverence. He put sloppy ribbons around them, tying them into boquets. Then he brought them into the house, into the parlor where his mother always sat and read romance novels by her favorite author.

As gracefully as a todler could, he bowed and threw them into her lap. She knew immediately where they had come from and horror flashed on her face. "Draco! Did you pick my flowers?" The little blonde boy nodded sweetly and smiled. She was obviously getting worked up, and a tear trickled down his face.

"Mommy?" he asked uncertainly.

"Oh, it's okay, love. I should've told you that they weren't for picking. I love them, though. I'll just have to put them into a vase." As she looked down at her son, she felt a pang when she saw he was still upset. "I _really _love them. Just don't do it again." She drew him into a hug and wiped his face with her fingers.

"I'm sor-" he went to say, just once more, but the arrival of his father made his sentence screech to a stop. In an instant, fear trickled into Draco's stomach, fear and _dread_. He noticed his mother's hands, still clasped within his own, become clammy.

"Now, Luc-," she started, and stopped at the sight of his hand in the air, demanding a halt.

"Draco? What did you do _now_?" Exasperation was obvious. Draco mumbled uncertainly, and his father, endlessly impatient, barked at him. "Speak up, damn it, and tell me what you've done, _boy_!"

"I picked mommy's flowers."

"Flowers, what?" Lucious asked. Narcissa stood, but he took three steps and pushed her shoulder lightly, but with enough force for her to return to her seat. "Flowers, sir."

"Okay. Sir."

"And how do you address Narcissa?" the man asked.

"Mommy?"

"MOTHER!"

"But-."

"Enough of this. Narcissa, it is time this boy learns his place at Malfoy Manor. He's being a cocky little bastar-" the man was raving, and his wife was trying to contain him without making him more upset. She could see the quivering shoulders of her son behind his back, which was now turned to him.

"Now Lucious, he's only three! We don't want to be hurtful. I don't think you should call him names."

"Well, when I was bloody _three _I was respectful. I was taught without hesitation by my parents, and now I'm going to teach _my _son a lesson." She started to cry, with her shoulders heaving and her lips shaking. She threw herself at him, trying to hold him, to make him change his demented decision. He threw her off of him with more force than he had intended, and she landed with a crash on the floor, a concussion on the back of her head by being sliced by the sharp corner of the sewing table. Then Lucious turned back to Draco and retrieved his cane.

"Come here now, and stand by your father for your punishment." Paralyzed with fear, he didn't move, not after seeing his mother's bloody hair. Furious fingers grasped his shoulder and his cane came up with one movement, one moment, is slow motion. Then the sharp fangs pierced his son in the shoulder.

A scream riddled with sobs filled the house.

He was never the same.

He was never whole again.

End Of Flashback

Draco flinched at the memory he had wanted to forget, and forced himself to look at his left shoulder. Two scars in the shape of circles were there, two holes imprinted in his flesh forever. Continuing his silent eye-search, he stopped at all of the marks and marrs on his skin. He suddenly felt very _ugly_.

He dove underwater, as if he could rinse away his very own history, feeling like he was in a sanctuary of water. As he broke the surface and icy air punctured his lungs, water droplets dripping from his hair, he heard a sound. A sigh, or a gasp. As he cocked his head to the side, he saw the last thing he expected.

Hermione Granger. And she was looking at him.

--------------------------------------------------


	7. SeVeN

************

Official Information

Title: The Extreme

Author: Enchanted Ink

Disclaimer: Harry Potter indica is the property of **J. K. Rowling **and the **Warner Bros. Association; NOT ME.**

Summary: H. A. Granger is in love- with the youngest male Weasley. There is one problem. Ron is no longer an innocent, awkward boy, and she has come to the conclusion that he is after another girl... Her enemy is a master in the art of relationships, and she will do anything for his council.

Rating: PG-13 for possible:  
-Language  
-Sexual Content  
-Violence  
-Drugs &/or Alcohol

Extra Info.: Words in _italic_ indicate thought or emphasis on the given term.

**A/N: **This chapter has a little bit of sexual content.

**Thanks you** to all of the people who have reviewed for this chapter, especially after so long!

**-quiet-one145**

**-Lover del Dragon**

**-foxer**

**-keddababy **

**-HPROXMYSOX**

**-Lara Potter**

I had hoped to get this chapter up immediately, but is giving me a very hard time logging in. My chapters get longer with each post, and this one is about 2000 words without all of the official jabbering. R/R, and thank you!

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7

Hermione Granger felt her jaw drop dramatically. In an instant, she felt interest as she noticed how strong and sleek his body was. In the next instant, however, she felt fear guzzle into her gut. Vivid, various injuries were scattered on his stomach and his shoulders, the only areas she could see from her spot in the clearing. "OH. MY. GOD," she gasped.

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Draco Malfoy was so shocked it took him two seconds, two seconds too long to discover her gasps had been over the somewhat gory glimpse she had gotten of his body. If he had felt ugly before, that hadn't held a candle to how hideous he felt now. He remembered to return into the water so she would stop her staring, even if it was unintentional.

"What the fuck are you doing here, _Granger?" _It took him a few seconds to realize he was the one who had spoken.

He shivered. He hadn't meant to spit out her name so spitefully, or to use forceful language that would frighten her. She didn't seem to notice, however, due to the apologetic glances she shot in his direction as she tried to express how sorry she was without looking at him.

"I- I'm sor... I'm sorry. I didn't know- I hadn't realized- I'm intruding." She turned on her heel to return to the grounds, but he stopped her before he could shut himself up.  
  
"Wait!"

She spun around. "What?" He didn't know what to say, so he held his hand up in a gesture that clearly meant 'turn around for a minute.' He grabbed the fuzzy, forest green towel he had laid out for himself and went to wrap it around his body before he realized it wasn't long enough. Instead he tucked it under his chin so that it was horizontal and his frame was completely covered. He cleared his throat.

She decided to speak first. "Um... How?" There was no need to pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. He realized he had better answer her quickly, so she wouldn't think they were self-inflicted or something of that nature.

"I have a sadistic father. I don't really talk about it." Those two sentences clung to the air like a thick blanket, smothering him, making his breathing more labored as his body stiffened, waiting to gauge her reaction. He received a wince. After that, there was nothing but awkward silence. Draco turned to the only other topic that he could think of for an option...

The weather.

"So, this is exceptionally warm weather for a swim. The water _never _feels like this in September."

"I'll bet it doesn't." Draco realized how much of a kink was developing in his neck muscles and he made an easy transition to use his hands to hold up the towel. Hermione looked around, and as she spotted a stump she lowered herself on it and sighed.

He sat on big, bright boulder that was shaped like a seat.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly.

"It's all right, this place isn't really _mine, _so I can't be mad abou-"

"No! That's not what I mean. I'm talking about Lucious. I don't know how you feel, but I know you must hurt... Both physically and mentally." He held his hands up in a detailed shrug, not knowing what else to say, and accidentally let the towel travel to the ground. She was transfixed, her eyes trained on the evidence of torture on his chest. She reached out a finger and he watched as it got close in proximity to his side, then letting it drop as if it had been burned.

He felt as if he had been burned. So he was repulsive to her... She couldn't even touch him, for that was what she was obviously about to do. Without a second thought, without any thoughts, just instinct, he grabbed her warm hand with his cold ones and brushed her fingers gently across his heart. He could feel it himself now, beating fiercely within his chest. Her palm rested for one of the longest seconds of his life across a scar that told a story.

"See? I'm still human." He thrust her arm away from his body and stood, grabbing his robes, hearing those four fatal words echo in his head, almost hauntingly. His voice had been predatory, almost. They were said with more venom than he had meant. He couldn't even look into her eyes.

If he would've... If he would've looked up, just once... He would have seen one crystal-like tear trailing down her cheek- for him.

----------------------------------------------------

Hermione had only run a half of a mile before retiring to the castle. Her head was too clouded it was even hard to think. Changing into more comfortable clothes that had absolutely nothing to do with exercising, she was just about ready to go to dinner when she realized she had a lesson to attend. Looking down at her dull attire, she felt a strong desire to go change but thought the better of it- she didn't want to be late.

Reaching the entrance, she saw that he wasn't there.

She could only hope that he would come.

----------------------------------------------------

I am so humiliated. The words rang in his head. Should he go? Or should he not? He remembered the searing fire his skin felt as her fingers made contact with his flesh and he shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the memory.

Any friendship I thought I had gained is now lost.

With a sigh, Draco stood and went to his closet, knowing that there was no way to escape confrontation. He didn't want her to think he was some sort of coward. Grabbing a green, heavy knit sweater and a pair of khakis, he threw them on and ran his fingers through his hair, grabbing a basket of food he had gotten from the a house elf. He was late.

Hurriedly, he ran up the stairs and swore as one began to move. He would have to change his route. Then a thought suddenly occured to him.

Granger might not go to the lesson.

It was mind-boggling enough to make him stop and slow his steps. In fact, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure she wouldn't show after all. _Maybe she was so disgusted she doesn't want to continue lessons anymore..._ He climbed the rounding steps that led to the main platform of the tower. _Maybe she's at dinner right now... _He climbed the rope latter. _Maybe she thinks I'm like Lucious... _He stood and brushed off his clothes. _Maybe-_

She was standing right next to him. _Oh. _"Hello," she blurted out. He nodded and dropped the basket. Silence. He decided to pretend nothing had ever happened.

"At our last, first lesson we covered two aspects of relationships, which are being verbal and physical. Then we discussed hobbies- this would be Quidditch, which is verbal. Then we practiced dancing, which is obviously physical." He watched as she lowered her head, crimson creeping onto her cheeks. He forced himself not to grin and felt a familiar smirk on his mouth.

"We have a lot of ground to cover. I thought it would be wise to work on dining skills." He motioned to the basket he had brought with him, spelled to keep the dishes their appropriate temperatures. He took out his wand and with a swish and flick he transfigured a rough, wooden, lesson table into an elaborate silver one, complete with a jeweled center piece and fragrant lavender candles. He heard a tiny gasp and grinned with satisfaction as matching chairs popped into place.

Opening the basket, he unveiled several aspects of the meal he had brought.

"Now, if he's a gentleman, hopefully he'll pull your chair out for you before you sit down. You have to make even the slightest movement as graceful as possible. Try it now." He moved closer to her, pulling out a chair for her. As she made her attempt, he almost flinched. She noticed. "Place your fingers lightly on the back of the chair. Then move your hips in a circular motion to lower yourself on the chair. Do all of this while maintaining eye contact. Now try."

Once he saw that Hermione had improved he took his own seat.

"Now, if conversation doesn't immediately ensue, you're going to want to move on to physical contact. Do you know what this would be if you were dining?"

She shook her head in a 'no' gesture. Now he was the one who felt a blush coming on. He didn't know how to describe the technique he was about to explain, all he knew was that it worked. "Well... See... You'd be wearing heals on an event like this, and you'd be sitting across from your date. You'd lift _your _leg and tickle _his _leg." As his eyes met her face, she started to laugh.

"You. Can't. Be. Serious!" she managed between gasps. He felt an odd giggle rip itself from his throat, and he began to laugh too, in spite of himself. As they settled back into the quiet, she felt herself begin to relax, and she noticed his shoulders soften.

The ice was finally broken, and they were suspended in the second.

Draco felt a light, ticklish movement on his leg, just underneath his knee cap, that made his breath catch. He jumped. It was the last thing he expected.

"Like this?"  
  
"What?" He was too flustered to catch her meaning.

"Like this. I'm I doing it right? This is what you meant by _tickling_, isn't it?" Draco's mind raced.

What the hell? Is she... Smirking? I have to get a grip. He raised his eyebrows.

"Or like this?" She brought her foot higher, so it was on the outside of his thigh. He forced himself to sit completely still. He cleared his throat. _So we're challenging each other now?_

"It doesn't matter. Either one will have the same effect." Now he was positive that the smirk he had seen was no illusion.

Who does she think she is? Two can play this game.

----------------------------------------------------

Hermione Granger was not flirtatious. She was not coy. She was not giddy. When it came to vocabulary terms such as seduce or sexual, _anything_ of that category, you could bet her name would not be in the same sentence. But now... Now she was testing her boundaries...

And she that.

A good portion of her life had been spent on the recieving end of Draco Malfoy's many smirks, but now the roles were reversed...

And she liked that, too.

Apparently, Draco didn't.

He stood, speaking in a softer drawl. He offered his hand. Being confused, she had no choice but to accept it. "Since you seem so keen on learning the _physical_ things first, we shall resume with being verbal... _Later_." Trying not to let him see her swallow by letting stray strands of hair cover her neck, she walked over to a small couch for two in the corner, another transfigured piece of furniture he had spelled into shape.

"You want to come off as teasing, but not as a tease. That means there is one rule you can not give in to- no kissing on the first date." He gave a wolfish grin. "No kissing on the mouth, anyway." Her eyes widened. She couldn't help it. He lifted a finger and let it trace as lightly as a butterfly across her neck, his nail sending shivers through her spine. "Now, before I continue, how much experience have you had before?"

She narrowed her eyes. _Oh, that was low. _Although it was unofficial, he held a challenge. Who was she to back down? She brought her head closer to his, letting him think he was about to kiss him. Instead of allowing his eyes to shut as probably any other boy would've done, they stayed perfectly open, unwavering, undaunted. He showed no outward signs of... Anything. But as she heard the hint of a ragged breath, she knew she was doing her job.

_I am not experienced. I've kissed a few times, no big deal. That would be pathetic to him. What am I thinking. He doesn't even have to know. I can't believe I'm about to do this... I can't... But I'm going to._

When she was not even a whole inch away, she let her head veer off around towards his ear. "I don't kiss and tell," she murmured, "But I don't see the harm in any _extra_ practice." She brushed her lips lightly, just below his ear, and then let her nails trace _his_ skin. Just as she began to wonder if she should try nibbling as she had seen in muggle movies, an unexpected noise set her system on alert.

Someone was coming.

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	8. EiGhT

**Official Information**

**Title: **The Extreme

**Author: **Enchanted Ink

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter indica is the property of **J. K. Rowling **and the **Warner Bros. Association; NOT ME.**

**Summary: **H. A. Granger is in love- with the youngest male Weasley. There is one problem. Ron is no longer an innocent, awkward boy, and she has come to the conclusion that he is after another girl... Her enemy is a master in the art of relationships, and she will do anything for his council.

**Rating: **PG-13 for possible:

**-Language  
**

**-Sexual Content  
**

**-Violence  
******

**-Drugs &/or Alcohol**

**Extra Info.: **Words in _italic_ indicate thought or emphasis on the given term.

**A/N: **I'm sorry I took so long to post. Again. I swear I'll try harder. Thank you **SO MUCH **to:

**-Lover del Dragon**

**-vanilla26785 **

**-Ish**

**-HPROXMYSOX**

**-quiet-one145**

**-Solain Rhyo**

**-foxer**

**-JesterFeign**

**-JJ**

**-squeak-the-soprano**

**-Gothic-Cutie-Blues**

I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint you. R/R! And when you see who's coming, don't shoot me, it's there for a reason :)

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**8**

Draco Malfoy's senses were surging strongly through his body.

He could _feel_ her fingers etch undefined designs on his flesh.

He could _hear_ her breath against the drum of his ear.

He could _smell_ the distinct aroma of the lavendar candles and another scent, her own.

His desire was so strong, he could almost _taste_ it.

As he _saw_ all of it, and he did and did not want to believe it was real.

It took him a moment to come to the conclusion that their lesson had been closed, and that people were pulling closer to their location. Somewhere throughout all of this, he had shut his eyes, but now they were wide open in shock and surprise. It was a good thing Hermione was a quick thinker, because she pulled him up to the back row of Divination tables and knelt down. Luckily the shadows were shelter.

Draco peered over a bean bag chair stationed in front of his doubled form. He saw the table in the center of the room, still perfectly set, with candles still aglow. The loveseat was set up so that anyone sitting on it would get a good view of the fireplace, which was convenient for their escape. The picnic basket lay abandoned nearby.

_Apparently somebody else thought it was smart to skip supper as well._

After his brain stated the obvious, he stopped thinking and started observing, as if his thoughts were loud enough to give away their position. It was then that he realized one side of him was warm, the other colder. He looked down and saw that Hermione's body was pressed next to him, from shoulder to shoe. He was comfortable, even if she didn't have a choice. If she moved over, her hair and robes would be exposed. Her body stiffened, and he looked over.

Harry Potter and Cho Chang were standing over the trap door.

**--------------------------------------------------**

Hermione Granger stifled a gasp and stiffened.

_I thought he was over Cho! He's liked her for years, and they've already attempted a relationship of sorts. I wish I was surprised he didn't tell me, but we haven't exactly been communicating lately._

She glanced over at her companion and cocked her head. The transition was amazing; moments before Draco Malfoy had been her victim, with a lazy, hazy expression. Now he was steady and still, breathing so quietly she couldn't hear it when he inhaled and exhaled. She turned back to the table.

"Oh Harry! You're are so sweet! You prepared this for me?" Cho's voice was feminine- in fact, _everything _about her was. She had long, curly black hair and wide brown eyes that made her look innocent. Pouting pink lips and a finger that made men wrap around it completed her appearance.

Hermione studied Harry's face. He was thinking, she knew. She could see the wheels and buttons and machines whirring and flashing in his head. She knew what he would say before he even said it.

"Um... Yes! I wanted a special setting for a special girl."

Hermione cackled under her breath and glared at Draco as his elbow made contact with her ribs. _How corny can he get? Even I know better than to say something like that! _The scene unfolded before her eyes.

Harry and Cho had dessert as their first and last meal- chocolate cheesecake with mint sprinkled on top. _That could've been Malfoy and me. _The thought was so sudden it sparked irritation in her. Minutes before she had felt Draco begin to soften his shoulders and his knees and now they were leaning against each other. Not that they had much of a choice, their shelter was small, but still...

After dinner they moved to the window. Cho gazed at the grounds. Harry gazed at Cho. He was so obviously in love with her it made Hermione humiliated for him.

_Harry is a great person. He deserves to want someone who wants him back._

After that they moved to the loveseat. Harry took his place as far to the left as he could, trying to contain the calm facade he had managed to create. When she moved closer, he was visibly affected. Now Hermione put her head in her hands and shook it slightly, wishing the evening were over. She glanced over at Draco thoughtlessly, catching him glancing at her. Their eyes connected. Draco's were humored. Hers, she knew, were not.

And then came the sound. She knew what they were doing. So did Draco. And then a thought occured to her.

_If Harry or Cho saw us, they would think..._

Her thoughts were stopped when a whirring object caught her attention. A lacy pink tank top flew up a few feet and landed at Harry's feet. Draco's eyebrows arched as he studied her reaction for what she felt was the millionth time. Hermione, however, was thinking about her own under things. About how boring _her_ under things were. She wondered how far Harry would let this go.

After about twenty minutes they were finished with their snogging session and, after extinguishing the candles, they left, hand in hand.

**--------------------------------------------------**

Draco tried to stand. Hermione tried to stand. They had been leaning against each other the entire time, and a stiffness had settled over them both. Now she fell backward, landing on the beanbag. She groped for his hand blindly, but her fingers wrapped around his arm instead. Without time to think, his weight was on top of her on the beanbag.

He was aware of how awkward their situation was. His chest was pressed against hers, his hip bones digging against hers. Instinct made him move his mouth closer to hers, but he pulled back. A flicker of disappointment was spotted, but she let her face freeze into what she hoped was a scowl.

"That was interesting, huh? Who would've thought that Potter and that hot-" His sentence was cut short.

"I don't want to hear about my friend's sexual agenda. It's not exactly entertaining."

"Really?"

"Really." Her mouth was in a firm line, as if this was the sudden end of their discussion.

"Well, now about the lessons. We've covered hobbies, Quidditch. We've covered dates, dinner and dancing. We've even covered first date physical functions."

"Um..." She seemed uncertain.

"My image could be modified sooner as opposed to later. You and I both know I'm not exactly model material." Draco studied her. Something in her tone was not normal. Then a light bulb flashed in his brain as he realized she was self-concious... Because of _him_.

"That could be arranged. I'll say one thing, though. Whatever we work on must not be paraded in public. You have to go from normal to... Not." She nodded.

"When's the next lesson?"

"Well, today is Sunday. Tomorrow you start detention. Wednesday during dinner would be ideal, and there is a Hogsmeade trip on Friday. We could make some purchases then. Is that okay with you?" Hermione thought for a moment and nodded. _It's not as if I have plans on Wednesday and Friday. It's not like I ever have plans, period._

They made their departure from the tower, but not before whisking away the wonderful setting with their wands. Hermione felt a twinge of regret, thinking wistfully of what would've been if they hadn't been interrupted.

**--------------------------------------------------**

It was Monday, and Hermione was moody.

_Damn detention! Now I'll never get my Potions essay done. Severus Snape is such a bad professor. What kind of human assigns forty inches on vampire cures due TWO days after it's given? _

Her thoughts came to a halt as a hand came to rest on her shoulder. She looked up into a pair of gleaming green eyes and felt sudden surprise as a smile came to her. "Harry!"

"I've been thinking, Hermione, that I haven't been a good friend."

"You have?"

"Yes."

"Well, you could be worse. You could be Ron."

Harry frowned. "Ron is... Irresponsible. He's letting fame get to his head. He thinks I can't relate. How could _I _not be able to relate?"

Hermione shrugged.

_If anyone could relate, Harry could. He's had adults come up to him, pushing and shoving just for a hand shake._

"Anyway, all I'm saying is that we should spend some more time together. I can't say when, due to our pathetic Potion's master and his bizarre moods, but just remember this conversation, okay?"

"Okay. I think that's a good idea." They exchanged their goodbyes and Hermione's brows creased as she pondered his sudden change of heart. She stood from the wooden bench and trotted to Gryffindor Tower. She hadn't been there in ages.

The Head Boy and the Head Girl were allowed to have the password to any house. The prefects were allowed only to have the password of the house they were from, and to the kitchens. Of course, they already knew it as did all of the people in Hogwarts, but they still put up surprised faces for the teachers benefits.

Exchanging polite conversation with the Fat Lady, she made her way into the empty Common Room, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw it was empty. All of the students were down in the Great Hall, eating their meal. She looked around and grinned. This was going to be easy.

_Ah, there it is._

It was a big, blue trunk with large, deceiving silver locks. It looked impossible to open, but all you had to do was know the secret phrase. It was sort of a memoir, left behind by the infamous Fred and George Weasley.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Hermione whispered, and the locks lifted as silently as her words were spoken. She lifted it and knew that her eyes looked glazed over. Inside was every kind of item needed for the perfect prank kit. Holding it up she swallowed. This was it. She only hoped it would work.

A fake wand.

"Mischief managed."

**--------------------------------------------------**

Professor Binns was hovering and scowling when Hermione dashed in, five minutes late. "Miss Granger, what in the world has gotten into you?" Ron watched their exchange silently, staring back and forth from the ghost to the girl.

"Well-"

"Well, what? First you get caught cheating, then you ditch _detention_, and now you have the nerve to be late? Ten points from Gryffindor."

"On the day that I was caught cheating, it was sweltering and it may be assumed that the heat got to my head. I didn't deliberately ditch detention, I was writing a forty inch essay for Professor Snape, and I was late just now because I had to help a first year with her homework."

All three were lies... And she was proud.  
  
"Very well. You still have detention, though. Now, the both of you, hand over your wands." She reached for the replica, knowing that her hands were sweating. "Now, how fast you finish is up to you. If you decide to be lazy, you'll be here until tomorrow. You'd best not tarry." He pointed to a wooden contraption on the wall. "Do you know what that is?" Hermione nodded.

"It's referred to as a Wand Returner, a device used by staff members at schools to use for detentions. The professor puts the wands into the slots and when the task is done satisfactory, the student will be able to take their wand back by themselves."

He left, placing the wands into the slots, and Ron spoke.

"Hermione, the day we were cheating, it was forty degrees."

She nodded.

"The day you ditched detention, the essay for Snape hadn't been assigned yet."

She shrugged.

"So, why were you _really _late?" She pulled out the wand and he frowned, trying to realize its meaning. Muttering different spells and incantations she had memorized, the room went from being repulsive to _really _clean.

"But you already gave Professor Binns your wand, remember?"

She walked to the door, hoping that her steps were at least _slightly _feminine, and grabbed the wands from the wood. She muttered under her breath to the replica and grinned as it burst into a rubber frog. His eyes grew wider as he _finally _began to catch on.

"I'd make your brothers so proud," she said, and threw his wand to him. She threw the rubber frog away into the nearest trash can and put her own back into her pocket.

She headed for the exit and turned one last time. His eyes were still locked on her.

Hermione Granger had served detention in five minutes flat, and she did the only thing she could think of...

She smirked.

**--------------------------------------------------**


End file.
